The Thirteen Doctors
by LordsofThunder
Summary: After the Eighth Doctor crashes into the surface of Karn, he finds himself trapped in his subconscious with his past and future selves, unable to regenerate, and unable to die. As the Sisterhood of Karn races to restore the Doctor's life, the Doctor attempts to find a way to trigger his regeneration into the War Doctor before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1

**Alright, first published fan-fiction here. Note, this likely has many spoilers for anything Doctor Who related up to the 50th anniversary special, and possibly to the 2013 Christmas special in later chapters. This FanFiction's main characters are the Thirteen regeneration of the Doctor we have up to date, including the War Doctor and the new Doctor who will be played by Peter Capaldi starting this Christmas. The story line is biased around the mini online episode called The Night of the Doctor, which I highly suggest you watch along with this fanfiction. Hope you all enjoy!**

The Doctor crossed to the console of the Tardis, looking up at the time vortex core, he pursed his lips in disappointment. "Alone again," the Doctor said with a sigh, flipping a lever quickly, the Tardis kicking into life. The Doctor turned his back to the console, leaning against it as he crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for her to take him where to next. Along with the regular sounds the Tardis made when taking off, the Doctor noted a sort of whimpering sound coming from the center console.

The Doctor glanced over his shoulder at the console, then gave another sigh, unfolding his arms and letting his hand run along the console, as if in comfort. "I don't know, I just wish it wasn't always so hard," he explained. The Tardis made another sound, almost a squeak, and the Doctor narrowed his blue eyes. "What are you talking about, of course I'm glad you're still here. But let's be honest, the main reason I pick up companions is because... well, it's so dull to see all of time and space without someone who's never seen it before."

Another response came from the Tardis, and the Doctor suddenly spun around, the tails of his coat flying behind him. "Yes, but you've seen far more than I have!" The Tardis suddenly jerked to the Doctor's right, making him grateful he'd been holding onto the edge of the console beforehand. "What's wrong now?" he asked, rushing to check the Tardis's controls. They were quickly approaching a ship with a damaged engine, headed directly for the surface of a burnt orange planet. "Ask and ye shall receive," the Doctor muttered as the Tardis landed inside the ship. He bolted for the door, quickly making his way through the smoke and the flashing lights.

"...the medical practition appropriate to your individual needs," the voice of the ship's computer was saying as the Doctor reached the front of the ship. Pausing ever so briefly, he crossed his arms, leaning against a bulkhead, watching the pilot as she worked with a furious speed.

"I'm trying to send a distress signal. Stop talking about doctors," the woman said quickly, the stress in her voice evident.

"I'm a Doctor," the Doctor said, the pilot turning around to see him. "But probably not the one you were expecting," he continued, pulling away from the bulkhead and crossing over to her as sparks flew. A quick glance, and he knew she was alone. "Where are the rest of the crew?"

"Teleported off," she said, the Doctor quickly taking in the critical system reports coming from nearly every part of the ship.

"But you're still here?" the Doctor asked, looking back at her. She was young, too young to die in a ship crash.

"I-I teleported them," she said, her voice calming down some as the Doctor glanced over his other shoulder, the life support was crashing.

"Why you?"

"Everyone else was screaming," she explained. This made the Doctor turn to her, gaining a sense of respect for her. The ship was unsalvageable, that was evident, and the Doctor wasn't about to fight fate.

"Welcome aboard," taking her out of this mess on the Tardis was the only option now.

With an exhale, her voice rose in pitch as she asked, "Aboard what?!" in panic.

He offered her his hand, letting his heartbeats calm down, so the adrenaline running through his veins wouldn't cause her more stress than she was already in. He was about to take up his role again, the kind, wise counselor. The solid foundation in the sake of crisis.

The Doctor.

"I'll show you," he said softly. She took his hand, and they were off. Sparks flew from the pilot's console, and the flashing lights continued. Turning down a hall, he retraced his steps back to the Tardis.

"Where are we going!?" she asked, the Doctor glancing back at her, a flash of light coming from behind her as the ship literally fell apart.

"Back of the ship," he said, looking ahead again, knowing not to look back. He couldn't look back. The shadows of his past lurked there, Daleks, Cybermen, Adric, Sara, Katarina, the list could go on for years. He didn't have years. He only had a few moments. I can't look back, the Doctor told himself firmly.

"Why?"

"Because the front of the ship crashes first, think it through," as he glimpsed the blue police box through the next bulkhead and the ship exhaust, a door with an octagon shaped window suddenly clamped shut, the Doctor skidded to a stop, the girl letting go of his hand. "Awe, blimey! Why'd you do that?" he muttered, reaching for his sonic screwdriver.

"Emergency protocols," she said, her voice close to his ear as he scanned the door, the familiar buzzing sound of the sonic screwdriver calming his nerves.

"What's your name?" he asked, half focused on her, half on the door.

"Cass," she answered quickly.

"You're young to be crewing a gun ship, Cass," he said, testing her name on his lips, not really paying attention to what he was saying, though he was paying full attention to her words. If the Tardis picked up someone like Romana's first regeneration, he'd never forgive her.

"I wanted to see the universe," the tone of her voice giving way to her hopelessness. "Is it always like this?" she asked, her voice perking up. Both reactions gained the Doctor's attention. She'd willingly travel with him, of course, and though she may have some downs, she quickly pulled herself up again, trying to see the bright spot, or to distract herself from the inevitable.

He almost allowed himself to smile, looking back at her, meeting her brown gaze. "If you're lucky," he admitted in an undertone, turning back to the door. A moment later, the door clicked open with a rush of a deadlock releasing. Putting his screwdriver back in his pocket, he stepped forward, glancing back at Cass to see she was staring open mouthed at the police box. "Don't worry," the Doctor said, turning back to the Tardis as he reached for her hand, feeling her fingers wrap around his, "It's bigger on the inside."

"What did you say?" she asked with a gasp, her steps hesitating. The Doctor turned back to her as she glanced between him and the Tardis several times. "Bigger on the inside, is that what you said?"

"Yes, come on, you'll love it," he said with a gesture of his head towards the Tardis. When this didn't seem to comfort her, the Doctor grew hesitant himself. What was wrong?

"Is this a- Tardis?" she demanded, pointing to the blue box in accusation.

The Doctor did not like that, and his "Yes," came out very brisk indeed. "But you'll be perfectly safe," he added, reprimanding his harsh response.

Suddenly, Cass ripped her hand free of his. He didn't fight her, his euphoria vanishing as if she'd torn it from him with her hand. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" she spat out bitterly.

The Doctor felt as if the world was crashing in around him, which technically, he was crashing into the world, but that didn't really matter, did it? "I'm not part of the war," he said, his voice unable to manage any emotion, so his words came out as cold hard fact. "I swear to you, I never was," even as he spoke the lie, Cass began shaking her head in disbelief.

"You're a Time Lord," she spoke the word as if she were speaking of a lesser form of life, something to be looked down upon, and disgusted by.

Agitation entering his voice, the Doctor temporarily broke eye contact. He knew he was losing this- losing her, and he couldn't lose her. She was supposed to save him. He had to make her understand, "Yes, I'm a Time Lord, but I'm one of the nice ones," he insisted, forcing himself to regain eye contact with her.

Cass threw her hands up in the air, quickly taking a couple of steps back, the Doctor made to follow, but her words brought him to a halt. "Get away from me!" The hate and fear in her eyes piercing the Doctor to his core.

"On the bright side, I'm not a Dalek!" he insisted, desperate for her to come with him. The ship was sure to crash any second now.

"Who can tell the difference anymore?!" she demanded, bitterness in each word as she turned to the bulkhead, reaching for something. She slammed her hand onto a switch, and the door quickly sealed shut between them.

Rushing forward, the Doctor shouted, "CASS!" This was not the way things were supposed to go, they should have been far away from here by now.

He reached for the door when Cass quickly said, "It's deadlocked, don't even try," obviously having forgotten the door had been deadlocked before, yet he had still managed his way through. He knew there was no point, at the rate the ship had been falling to the surface of the planet, his screwdriver could never open the door in time. There was also the dilemma that even if he could get to her, she would not want to go with him in the Tardis.

"Cass, just open the door. I'm trying to help!" he said, hoping against hope this would make her change her mind.

Cass shook her head again before saying, "Go back to your battlefield," she said, the look on her face bring the Doctor to a loss of words. "You aren't finished yet," her voice cracked slightly, a tear running down her cheek. "Some of the universe is still standing!"

"I'm not leaving this ship without you," the Doctor's voice had grown hard. He knew he wouldn't win, so he held onto the only thing he could: his stubbornness.

Cass leaned against the door, putting her face closer to the glass as she said, "Then you're going to die right here," those words sinking into the Doctor's hearts as she continued, "Best news of the day."

In other lives, the Doctor knew he would have tucked tail and run, but something kept him there at that door. He lifted his hand to rest on the bulkhead, quietly repeating, "Cass, Cass." He began to bang on the door, Cass stepping away from him, a look of painful desperation on her face as she looked around her. "Cass! CASS!" the Doctor's voice rose in pitch as he continued to bang on the door, glancing at the bulkhead in desperation. Surely there's a way!

Each of his double heartbeats echoed in his ears, as he stopped banging on the door, lowering his hand and stared at her in shock. She'd done it. It was over now, all over. Cass turned as the ship collided with the ground. The Tardis! The Doctor realized, turning around, too late.

He couldn't even save her.

The world went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: In this fanfiction, I address the Doctors by their regeneration number, not their 'title', so John Hurt is Nine, Christopher Eccleston is Ten, David Tennant is Eleven, Matt Smith is Twelve and Peter Capaldi.**

It was warm, and somewhat moist, the ground beneath the Doctor was uneven and hard. Blinking several times, the Doctor's vision cleared, swirling gray mist hovered over him, and far, far above the mist, piercing through the violet sky was a star, slowly accompanied by several others. Breathing evenly, the Doctor stared up at the night sky, watching it unfold before him in all it's splendor.

It wasn't the night sky of Earth, it was the sky of Gallifrey, from his youth, before he'd been outcasted, before the Time War had changed those stars as both Time Lords and Daleks destroyed nearby solar systems in a struggle for power. What was he doing here? And exactly where was here?

Suddenly, a shadow fell over the Doctor, and blinking, he took in a familiar face. The round, youthful features, mop of blond hair and cricket uniform adorned with a stick of celery was certainly a sight he would never forget. His hesitant gray-brown eyes were pleasant enough, and held a secret which was easy to see, but hard to read.

The Doctor's fifth regeneration struggled to smile, even politely. "I'm a disgrace, aren't I?" Eight asked numbly. He'd always looked to his previous regenerations as goals to be measured up to. If he failed, then he would bring down the name of the Doctor. The Good Man would no longer be what he was supposed to be.

The man who time and space so desperately needed.

We all failed at one point or another, Five voice echoed through Eight's mind, a kindness in his voice which Eight had tried to emulate countless times, but had always failed. In Eight's mind, he saw Adric's cold, dead, body, which quickly vanished from sight.

Of course, he's me, and I'm him, we can pear each others thoughts, Eight realized. Five's smile became more sincere, but not full. "Now you've got it," he said, offering his hand to Eight to help him up.

Eight took it, letting Five pull him to his feet, his war-worn renaissance coat trailing mist behind him. "Never thought I'd see you again," Eight admitted, dusting himself off briefly, then noticing the grime on his hands, realizing that the finicky habits of this regeneration would only prove pointless.

"Oh yes, you've forgotten, haven't you," Five said, moving away slowly through the mist and across the water-worn-smooth rock face. "We all forget," Five said absently, sticking his hands in his pockets as Eight hesitated to follow. He trusted Five, more than other versions of his past, though Five had never been too sure of himself. He'd been different from the first four forms the Doctor had taken, but that didn't make him bad. In all reality, it just proved he was all the stronger for maintaining the name of the Doctor.

It felt strange to follow Five. He felt the neural connection between them, could sense Five's feelings, though not his vague thoughts. It also didn't help that they were two separate beings. Five was Five, and Eight was Eight. Connected minds, but bodies which were once controlled by the same conscious, were controlled separately. "Forget what?" Eight asked, half a step behind his younger self.

"Each Time Lord has thirteen lives: twelve regenerations and one birth. From birth, our genetic code dictates what each of our regenerations will be like, in personality, appearance and order. Until we are to take our place in the regeneration cycle, we fester in the subconscious, developing ourselves, observing and learning from our predecessors," Five explained with an unexpected level of charisma. As they traversed the network of open tunnels, a thick, gray mist seemed to breathe into existence, distorting Five's close figure. "We go into our regeneration, relying on our past and our future selves, though we may only be aware of the past. We live, we die, we return here, letting the next regeneration take our place."

"And what do we do once we come back here? This is my subconscious, right?" Eight deduced, vaguely recognizing the tunnel's similarities to neural pathways throughout the brain, though the connection was a long shot of an observation.

Five nodded, glancing back at Eight to check his mood. "We assist and advise the current regeneration. We're often in contact with the Tardis, and encourage her to go to different locations with us against our will; places where we are the most needed. We are here for a total recall of our past, to remind ourself of exactly what is right and wrong, things like that."

"I don't see what anyone could possibly learn from me," Eight said quietly, thinking of the way that he'd gotten himself killed. He'd not only lost Cass, but he'd put the Tardis in danger. Yes, she probably had survived the crash, but there were horror stories of what happened to a Tardis once their owner ran out of regenerations. By now, some other fellow would have taken his place, and been off with it. But- had there been enough time for a regeneration. "Do you remember your regeneration?" Eight asked, growing worried.

"The first half, but then Six took over," Five said, pulling his hand out of his pocket and raising it to the stone wall, letting it run against the smooth, grainy surface. "Our advice isn't necessarily flawless, only proven by the first couple hours of Six's regeneration," Five trailed off as Eight felt something brush against his skin- the feeling of stone.

"I can feel the wall," Eight said, pausing, looking down at his hand, staring at his fingertips as the sensation vanished. Looking up again, he let his blue gaze meet with the more reserved version of himself.

"That sometimes happens," Five said, slipping his hand back in his pocket, as if to avoid any other neurally transmitted sensations to pass between them. It didn't work, as Eight's fingers quickly became quite cooler.

"Your hands are cold, aren't they," Eighth asked, rubbing his fingers, noting the emphasis, and reminder, that Five's hands had always been cold. The sensation was odd, as Eight hadn't had the same issue, but somehow Five had just brought on the sensation.

"Oh, it's something I've always had," Five said with a shrug, absent of the fact that Eight already knew that. Despite that, now he felt it; in a different body nonetheless.

"You said this happens sometimes?" Eight asked, reaching up to the tie turned scarf messily secured around his neck. Fighting with the knot for a moment, he managed to loosen it, feeling more comfortable with it further from his neck. He'd gotten sloppy with the Time War, in his earlier regenerations, his appearance had been somewhat of an obsession, but now he hardly cared.

"Usually only when we're in close proximity with another self. Our mind is vast enough that that doesn't happen unless we want it to happen, and trust me, we've all become masters at keeping to ourselves when it comes to..." Five trailed off, his steps faltering as he stared into the fog. Eight could sense it too: another one of themselves was approaching through the mists of their mind, the energy in the air changing, becoming slightly erratic and on edge.

"Oi, Five," a brisk, young fellow with sloppy, almost black hair, interrupted as he emerged from the mists. He wore a bowtie and a tweed coat, his eyes holding an intense, yet childish quality to them. The tension in the air seemed to release like a broken seal as the fog retreating slightly from the three Doctors. "Good, you've found him. Welcome back Eight, lovely to see you again," he said, offering his hand. Eight hesitated, but went to take it. Before he got there, the other him pulled his hand away suddenly, instead raking his fingers through his hair, adding to the already sloppy quality. Eight paused for a moment before letting his hand drop down again.

"What is it Twelve?" Five asked, some how keeping his voice pleasant, despite the discomfort emanating from him.

"Oh, we just have a problem with the regeneration cycle, and One wants to talk to all of me as soon as possible. He's called us to the prefrontal cortex. You know, he's sort of a brisk chap, and wants us there as quickly as possible," Twelve's words seemed to spill over each other like a floundering fish out of water what wasn't struggling to breathe, but to swim. He played with his hands constantly, distracting Eight from his intense brown gaze.

"And he sent you to come find us, did he?" Five asked coolly, his face lacking all amusement, turning into a sort of frown,

"No, no," Twelve rushed, though his next words came out slowly, almost painfully so, as if he were thinking about each word before allowing them to leave his lips. "I took it upon myself to come find you. All the others were arguing so much I knew they would take too long to come and find you."

"Thank you Twelve, we'll be there shortly," Five said slowly and firmly, leaving no room for the other Doctor to protest.

"Right. Gotcha. I understand completely. I'll go tell the others." Twelve didn't leave immediately, and hesitated before he added one more, "I'll leave now." Hovering a moment longer, he turned and left, vanishing into the mist.

"Right, where were we?" Five asked, turning back to Eight.

"Is he alri...?" Eight began to ask in worry. Would he really turn into that man?

"Oh yes, can you still feel what I feel?" Five asked, plowing over Eight's words, pulling both hands out of his pockets. In one hand he held a red and white cricket ball, which he tossed between his hands, a satisfying smack coming with each catch. Eight hesitated, trying to feel the weight pass between his hands, but there was nothing, his hands even had warmed up considerably since Twelve had shown up unexpectedly.

"Nothing," Eight answered simply with a shake of his head.

"That's fine," Five said, slipping the ball back into his pocket. "As I said, sometimes it happens, most times it doesn't. There's no reason for the difference, so if I were you, I'd just accept it, and move on."

"And you are me, so I really ought to listen to you," Eight added with a smile, his weathered face creasing with the grin. It felt nice to be somewhere where the Time War didn't hover over him like a shadow of threat.

Five gave a tight lipped smile, gesturing with his head in the direction Twelve had gone, "Best not to keep One waiting, he's impatient enough as it is. I think we've all decided that's why he was the first of us all."

"So, this is our mind, right?" Eight asked as the two of them headed into the mists, looking around attentive to the details, which were few.

"Yep," Five said, still not in a rush, leisurely strolling through the tunnels of their mind. What it must be like to be so relaxed. Five had seen better days, and though it may have had it's times of difficulty, Eight couldn't help but feel a surge of envy for him.

"What happens when we've gone through all thirteen lives?"

Five was silent for a long minute before admitting, "We're not sure. Supposedly, we can either let go of our conscious self, and move onto the next stage of existence, whatever that may be, or we can- bend the rules."

"Like Omega, Rassilon and the Other?" Eight asked, intrigued. Unlike the rest of the Time Lords, the three original Time Lords had broken past the twelve regeneration limit. Supposedly, there was a way other Time Lords could accomplish this feat as well, but the means were far from common knowledge.

"Whatever the price for that is, it must be very steep indeed, or the Master would have done it when he'd gone through all his regenerations." This comment surprised Eight, the Master had run out of regenerations in the Doctor's Seventh regeneration, after Five's time. In the past, when the Doctor had run into himself, memories were exclusively kept to what each regeneration had already gone through, but Five seemed to know things beyond him. Why this struck Eight after an entire conversation with Five made him feel a little slow.

"All the Time Lords are so scared of death, surely they would all do it," Eight agreed as they entered an open area. It made sense that Five knew the things EIght knew. Connecting the pieces was the difficult part. Something was wrong, Eight's head felt foggy, made literal by the mist condensing around them. His thoughts coming slowly, and not necessarily in order.

"Welcome to the prefrontal cortex," Five said, unaware of Eight's struggle. He came to a halt, Eight saying close to him, trying to see through the mist.


	3. Chapter 3

"I didn't think my mind would be this small," Eight said, non to humbly either, as the mist began to thin, the silhouettes of many men spread throughout the circular area. The prefrontal cortex was a rather open area, the stone appeared to have once domed the area, but the ceiling had broken through, letting the light of the Gallifreyan night into the foggy area below, the residue of the ceiling scattering the floor of the cavern in worn boulders and stones.

"It isn't, we were just very close," Five returned with one of his half-hearted smiles. There was tension in the air, and Eight felt uncomfortable. His past selves were reasonable enough, but there were five other men he could recall nothing about. Five men who would be directly influenced by his choices and actions. Five men who would likely not forgive him if they were cheated out of their lives by Eight getting himself killed.

"Are we all here?" a familiar, aged voice echoed through the mind. The light grew, and the faces of the other men became clear. Standing directly in the middle of the circle was the First Doctor, gnarled cane in hand, thin face inspecting Eight and Five in the silence.

Hands still in his pockets, Five walked away from Eight, holding eye contact with One for several long moments before letting his gaze break away. Once Five reached his position in the circle, Eight quickly picked up on the pattern. One at the center, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, and directly to Eight's right was Seven, which must mean to his left must be Nine, and so on in a clockwise order. Each face was unique, the old ones familiar, the new ones acting as a tantalizing memory in the back of Eight's head. They were positioned like a clock, One, as the original, stood in the center, the rest standing in their spot as the number of regenerations that had occurred for them to exist, putting Eight in the seventh spot on the "clock."

"It appears so," the man who stood at the twelfth spot said, his older frame appearing wise and- well, intense. Seeing 'himself' so worn, but strong, intimidated Eight slightly. Things weren't going to get easier for him, and he could just see in in Thirteen's face.

"Well, yes," Seven said quickly, his almost nasally voice interrupting quickly, "But shouldn't Nine already be out there?" he asked as he leaned on his umbrella for support, pulling off his hat and holding it against his chest.

"That's our problem Seven, and it certainly would help if you didn't exclude yourself from everyone else so that you could know that ahead of time," Nine said formerly, no amusement in his old voice.

"Jelly baby?" Four suddenly asked, pulling out a paper sack and leaning over to three, his blue eyes opened wide as he watched the contention rise like he was watching a good game of football or an interesting movie.

"Now really isn't the time, Four," Three said with a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest, the ruffles of his outfit making him appear to puff out like an indignant cat or a startled bird.

"I'd love one," Two said enthusiastically, stepping out of his place in the circle and taking several from Four's outstretched hand. Three glared at them both during the pass off, but neither seemed to care. When Two and Four both returned to their original spots, now munching on jelly babies, the sour look on Three's face was priceless, as Four and Two both gave one of their mischievous grins. Eight couldn't help but let his own mouth curve a little in amusement at his past selves making sport of one another.

"Yes, well, hmm. Jelly babies may be lovely indeed, but I believe we have a much more serious issues ahead of us," One said, grabbing the lapels of his suit coat and rocking back onto his heels.

"Well, apparently there's still a chance for regeneration, or else they'd all be gone," Six said with a brisk wave at the last five regenerations after Eight.

"Thank you for your demonstration of faith, Six," Ten said sarcastically, the sharp edges of his facial structure, and nearly bald head adding an intensity to the comment as he folded his arms over his leather jacket.

"Yes, yes, yes. We must fix this, but arguing amongst myself will hardly be beneficial, hmmm?" No response came from the other twelve Doctors, so One released his grip on the lapels of his suit coat, taking his cane in hand as he made his way around the circumference of the circle. A tense silence followed, Eight unsure why his other selves seemed uneasy.

"One, are you certain about this?" Thirteen asked as if continuing a conversation Eight hadn't been able to hear, his aged features creased in concern as One made his way back to the center of the circle. Around the circle, each of the Doctors began to move one by one in order around their 'clock'.

The Second Doctor's brow furrowed as he pulled out his recorder, "Oh, give me a second to think this over," he offered in distress before he began to play a simple melody, erry, and pulling something from Eight's past... or future?

Three began pulling off his gloves, taking his sweet time about it, "Perhaps when the Gallifreyan High Council restored our memories of time travel, they withheld some vital information concerning regeneration."

Four pulled out his yoyo, and began to play with it, "Yes, hum. That doesn't help us much now, does it?"

Five pulled out his cricket ball again, and began tossing it into the air, just to catch it repetitively. "Maybe we're going about this wrong?"

Six gave One a brief glare, which was only returned by the physically older regeneration's own stern expression. After a moment Six gave a sigh, and pulled off the cat from his lapel. "Then what exactly are we going to do about it?"

Seven gave a surprised "Oh!" before standing up straight, and opening his umbrella with a swing, letting it rest on his shoulder. "I know!"

Nine glanced at Eight, his aged brown eyes holding a coolness to them Eight wasn't particularly fond of. As he did so, his hand seemed to subconsciously reach for the shoulder belt wrapped around his torso. "We have no other choice."

"Oh, surely there is a way for our regeneration to take place, or the Gallifreyan High Council would have terminated our conscious thoughts, and we'd all be off to Valhalla, or where ever we're off to after this," Ten said, reaching into this leather coat and pulling out a banana, looking it's yellow peel, inspecting it's ripeness.

"What's the plan?" Eight asked, worried that he seemed to be the only one to not know what was going on. His head hadn't cleared yet, and he had the brief thought he was hearing this conversation as his companions heard him speak. It was all just a bunch of words strung together. The air seemed to electrify, making the hair on the back of Eight's neck stand on end.

"Oh dear," Seven and Two said in synchronization as the air of the Doctor's subconscious began to crackle. An instant later Eight felt like a bolt of electricity was running through his whole body, he could tell he was screaming by the burning in his lungs but he couldn't hear a thing. The world around him turned a blinding white, making it impossible for him to see, so he forced his eyes shut, the searing sensation from the light disappearing, but not it's luminance.

The pain vanished, but the Doctor was still in shock. His scream cut off abruptly, his knees giving weigh as he collapsed to the smooth surface of his prefrontal cortex, catching himself with his arms, which trembled under him. His breath came in shuddering gasps, the sound of footsteps rushing to him drew his eyes upward.

The Doctor's Eleventh form reached him, pulling on a pair of brown, square spectacles as he kneeled besides Eight, resting a hand on Eight's shoulder, looking him over properly. "Perhaps it was wise to disconnect him from the neural link. If we hadn't, all the later generations would be dead by now."

"And we wouldn't want that, now would I?" Twelve said tensly, pulling a red fez from one of his pockets, and plopping the hat on top his black mop of hair.

"We're going to need to do some digging," Thirteen said, not moving, his intense gaze locked on Eight. Infact, every Doctor was looking directly at Eight, though none of them as hostilely as Thirteen.

"Digging?" Eight asked uneasily, breath still uneven and heavy, his body slowly regaining strength. He raised a hand to Eleven's shoulder, letting the skinny man help him back up to his feet.

Six gave an impatient sigh, rolling his eyes before he interjected, "We're going to dig through our time line for a solution to this problem."

"Righto, groups of two should do the trick," Twelve said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them in anticipation.

"I'll make the groups, thank you very much," One said stiffly as Twelve left his spot in the circle, looking rather ridiculous in that fez.

"Oh, that's fine," Twelve said with a wave of his hand, strutting around the circle. Six's face grew dark, as he stepped forward as well.

"How about you rein in your superior attitude and accept that we're all the same person!?" Six demanded, huffing a little.

Twelve turned to Six, a spark in his eyes, "It's been said that the quality you find most irritable in others tends to be the one you hide behind the most." Four pulled out his jelly babies again, blue eyes twinkling as he watched his other selves argue again. The others all seemed unaffected by the electric shock Eight had undertaken, and seemed to move on rather quickly, making Eight grateful Eleven had offered a helping hand, as he still leaned on his 'older' self for support.

"That's enough," Thirteen snapped, stepping forward. Six seemed indignant, and Twelve gave a broad chin smile, knowing he'd won the spat.

"Might as well get on with the pairings, One, before we end up at each others throats," Nine said soberly, releasing his grip on his shoulder belt, worn face warily taking in Four's strangely delighted expression.

"Awe, but that was the whole point to this gathering," Four said with his unique baritone voice, giving a simper as the hand which held the jelly babies dropped several inches.

" 'Fraid you're in luck, it will happen anyways," Eleven interjected, his jaw protruding slightly before he lowered his chin and his brown eyes looked over the others levely, still letting Eight rely on him for support.

"Hmm, Seven and Ten, you're together," One said decisively, obviously not paying much attention to the ensuing arguments. Neither seemed upset with the pairing, hopefully that was a good sign. "Four and Nine," Nine gave a slight sniff, his weathered face showing no emotion, as Four's face split into a broad smile, a green jelly baby held between his teeth, waiting to be crushed by his pearly whites. "Thirteen and Eleven," no comment on either behalf. "Two and Three."

"Anyone but him, remember how he stole my recorder!" Two immediately protested, stepping forward in protest.

"Surely you're not serious, One," Three said, bitterly as Four let out a snicker behind his hand.

One ignored the both, moving on, "Five and Six," which lead to Six harumphing unhappily, and Five giving his predecessor a hesitant look. "Which leaves Twelve and I."

Twelve's eyes seemed to bulge slightly as he spun on the balls of his feet to face One. "Excuse me, did I hear you right?" the fez topped Doctor demanded in a rush.

"Because Eight is the center point to this crisis, he will be traveling with each pair. Ten and Seven, you first," One said briskly, ignoring the protest in Twelve's voice.

"Well, that's all fine and dandy, but exactly how do we plan on getting anywhere?" Ten asked sharply. One didn't say anything, instead he made his way over to a small piece of rubble from what had once been the roof of the prefrontal cortex. With a hard rap of his cane, One stepped back as the rock suddenly trembled, and grew to the height of his waist. It had morphed into a rough piller, a basin dipping into the center of the column. One reached for his hand, pulling off the large sapphire ring, before dropping it into the basin with a clatter.

"The only way to summon the Tardis is to present a token from each of us, which is why I asked for each of you to produce one such token," several Doctors looked surprised, and taken aback, others appeared as if they'd expected it. "Worry not, once this whole ordeal is over, each token will be returned. Now, let's get along with it."

Two grimaced, knowing he had to be next, he stepped forward, dropping his recorder inside the basin, this time not a sound emanating from its fall. Three through Six followed suit, tossing in gloves, a yoyo, cricket ball, and cat pin quickly. Seven hesitated, looking up at the umbrella which was still open above his head. Giving a thoughtful grunt, he closed the umbrella and started patting his pockets.

"Let it go, Seven," Five said in his neutral voice. Seven gave a grimace of displeasure before approaching the basin and letting the umbrella slip into it's confines. As he did so, Eight felt at a loss, the arm which wasn't wrapped around Eleven's shoulders patting his own pockets until he felt a round fob watch press against his chest. Pulling it out, he looked it over briefly. He'd gotten this just after his regeneration, all those years ago. It's silver surface reminding him of better times, before the war. He'd forgotten he still had it.

Pulling away from Eleven, managing to stand on his own, if a little weakly, he walked over to the basin, looking inside the shallow bowl to find the only visible item was One's ring, which only meant one thing: a chameleon circuit. Dangling the watch over the basin, Eight let the chain slip from his hands, and watched as it slipped right through the bottom of the basin, and vanished from sight. Nine was already approaching, pulling off his shoulder belt and letting it drop into the basin, Eight catching a glimpse of blood on the leather before it vanished from sight. Eight looked up at Nine, their gazes catching for a moment, before Nine turned and walked away.

Ten was at the basin now, letting the banana fall into the basin, Eleven in his wake, slipping off the glasses and tossing them in. Eight looked up to find One was staring at him as Twelve approached and plopped of his red fez. "What do you need me to do?" Eight asked, keeping his voice low enough that their other selves couldn't hear.

One leaned forward on his cane, eyes twinkling, "Figure out how to fix this mess. We're your keys to the past and the future, but right now, you're the Doctor. And this physician needs healing. You're the one to do that, not any of us," One said intensely, Thirteen approaching and tossing an item in. Eight glanced over to see what it was, but beyond a blur, he saw nothing as it vanished into the basin.

Instantly, the sound the Tardis echoed through the Doctor's prefrontal cortex, the familiar blue box appearing where the basin had been just before. Eight and One took a step back from the Tardis to allow it to materialize, Ten and Seven joining Eight before the door, even before she had materialized completely. Turning back to one, Eight hesitated, the old man giving him a crooked smile. "Get to it Doctor."

"Doctor Who?" Eight asked briefly, One's smile broadening even further.

"This is not just apart of your imaginings, Eight," One added quickly as Ten and Seven entered the Tardis, leaving the door open for Eight. "All three of you are leaving our mind and entering the time stream again. If any of you die, every regeneration after you will cease to exist, and this will all be for naught."

Eight took a deep breath before saying, "I won't fail again." He turned, taking a step towards the Tardis, determined.

"Again?" One interrupted, causing Eight to pause again, "You've never failed Eight. This was meant to happen, the Tardis took you to that crashing ship because it was time for our regeneration. This was all meant to be, hmm," One with a nod of his head.

"Eight, you coming?" Seven's voice shouted through the door. Deciding to let it go, Eight turned, grabbing hold of the doorframe as he stepped inside the familiar blue box.


	4. Chapter 4

Ryrinna sat in a kneeled position on the hard stone floor, her long black hair running down her blood red cloak, and framed by the same hewed hood. Before her, in a large, black metal bowl, breathed the Sacred Flame. It's orange light flickered across the stone walls, casting Ryrinna's pale face in dancing shadows.

The Sacred Flame was the ancient power of Karn, and the source of the Elixir of Life. Both were the tokens of the Sisterhood of Karn had dedicated themselves to protect. To guard from the greedy hands of species such as the Daleks, Sontarans, even the Time Lords of Gallifrey, though the Sisterhood's relationship with the Time Lords was less- exclusive. The Time Lords offered Karn protection, and in return, the Sisterhood allotted a small amount of the Elixir to fall into the Time Lords' possession.

Ryrinna let her dark blue eyes close, her breath coming slowly, evenly. She was new to the Sisterhood, having only been amongst their ranks for two hundred years, but that didn't stop Ohila, the High Priestess of the Sisterhood of Karn, from trusting her with the protection of the flame single-handedly.

Focus, Ryrinna told herself silently. Meditation had always been her weak point when it came to the practices of the Sisterhood, it was a weakness of her species, such an erratic and uncontrolled people. Every sister was to have a strong mind, not easily bargained or bribed to do the will of men, especially the Time Lords, the only race equal to the Sisterhood in mental control.

"Ryrinna," a soft voice interrupted her. Eyes flickering open, Ryrinna found Isis, a pale, blonde novis, standing in the doorway of the room. She clutched at the red stone wall, leaning on it with her whole frame, her dark brown eyes staring at the Sacred Flame in all its splendor.

"You should not be here," Ryrinna said levelly. She had only just been raised to full sisterhood several months prior, and had once been close friends with Isis. But in the Sisterhood, status dictated whom one could spend their time with. Beyond that problem, though, was the simple fact that novices were not to be near the Sacred Flame so poorly attended.

Isis gulped nervously before saying, "Lady Ohila has sent for you."

"To leave the Flame unattended?" Ryrinna asked, smoothly rising to her feet, letting worry grow inside her, but not letting it become visible.

"She said it was important," Isis said, her shy voice growing more hesitant.

"The Flame is important," Ryrinna insisted, "I will not leave it unattended."

"She sent me to attend the Flame," Isis said, her voice growing a tad more firm as she pulled away from the wall, stepping inside the room. Isis was one of the more experienced novices, but that did not change the fact that the Flame was to be constantly attended by a full sister.

The sound of rushed footsteps came from down the hall, drawing Ryrinna and Isis's attention. A moment later, Gennera appeared, her brown hair a little flurried from her rush. "Ryrinna, Lady Ohila is urgent that you come now. She wants all the sisters, immediately!"

"The Flame," Ryrinna protested as the other sister came into the room, taking Ryrinna by the hand and pulling her away towards the hall.

"This is more important," Gennera insisted, "Besides, Isis knows where to find us if anything goes wrong." Ryrinna glanced back to Isis, who gave a simple nod, her jaw setting in determination. With that, Ryrinna let Gennera guide her with fast steps towards the entrance of the temple. What could be more important than the Sacred Flame? Apparently something important enough to cause Ohila enough worry to gather all the sisters.

They reached the entrance of the temple where the other sisters had all collected, Ohila stood in the entranceway. From the silver of the orange sky Ryrinna could see past the High Priestess, Ryrinna saw a dark object flash across the sky just before a thunderous crashing shouted through the air, and the temple trembled slightly.

"And here he is at last," Ohila said softly, stepping out of the temple, the sisters behind her stepping forward hesitantly. "The man to end it all. My sisters," she paused ever so briefly before continuing, "the Doctor has returned to Karn."

A murmur rose up among the sisters, all whispers which Ryrinna paid no heed to. Instead, she pulled away from the sisters, stepping out into the setting sun's light with Ohila, stepping up besides her, eyes transfixed on the black smoke of the crashed ship.

"What do we do?" Ryrinna asked numbly, several others joining them, though not all.

"We revive him," Ohila gave in response.

Ryrinna turned, looking at the shorter, older woman in worry. "But the Time Lords, they came here and made us swear not to revive anyone fleeing the Time War," she said in a panic. If the High Council of Gallifrey found out about this Doctor- at least his name sounded like the name of a Time Lord. Perhaps Ryrinna was wrong.

"There was one exception to that agreement, in which an ultimatum was to be given," Ohila said, stepping further away from the temple entrance. "Come my sisters, any delay and we will be too late."

It took time, but the sisters did reach the wreckage. Metal debris scattered everywhere as fire continued to engulf the fallen ship. Without being told, the sisters dispersed, searching for a body, silent while at their work.

"We have always known in our bones that one day, he would return here," Ohila's voice echoed over the silence, Ryrinna aware of it as she carefully stepped over a lethally sharp bit of wreckage.

With the way the High Priestess was acting, he must be important indeed. Glancing to her right, Ryrinna paused, heart skipping a beat. A boot, she'd found a boot! The leather was a light brown, covered in dust and oil from the crash.

"I-I found him," Ryrinna managed to make her voice rise over the crackling of the burning flames. She rushed forward, quickly finding his torso and face were free of the metal, though his legs and core were trapped by the metal frame of what used to be the ship.

Kneeling on the ground, breath shallow with worry, Ryrinna placed a hand on his chest. There was no rise and fall from his lungs, no heartbeat burning with fire. She didn't know what to expect, but this shocked her. She pulled her hand away as several of the sisters, including the High Priestess, gathered 'round.

Looking up with wide blue eyes, Ryrinna struggled a moment before choking out, "He's- dead," in a low whisper.

"After all this waiting," Ohila said softly, her voice growing somewhat bitter, "it's such a pity he's dead. Pull him from the wreckage, we must get him to the temple and restore him as quickly as possible."

"High Priestess," another sister called, not far off. "I have found the body of a woman as well."

"His companion, no doubt. Focus on the Doctor, but we will try our best for her too," Ohila ordered quickly. The sisters around the Doctor's body had already started their work, Ryrinna taking care that nothing hit his head while the others shifted through the metal. It would be a long journey back to the temple with two bodies, if it were even possible. With the novices help, it could be done, but the sisters were too few in number to manage them both on their own.

"Ryrinna," Ohila said softly, kneeling besides the much younger sister. "Every minute we take increases the likelihood that we will not be able to bring him back. I know you have forsworn the gift of your people, but he needs you now. The Sisterhood needs you. The universe needs him in the Time War, and if dies before he takes part, then we will all burn in the fires of this war. Do you understand?"

Ryrinna glanced down at the Doctor. His face was handsome, if a little rugged and worn. His people had killed hers, and now she was to save one of their kind? "It is not safe to do it here," Ryrinna said softly, making sure she could not be heard by the other sisters as she gave her weak protest. "There is too much metal around, it could harm the sisters."

"Then as soon as we pull him far enough from the wreckage, you will try," Ohila insisted. Ryrinna meet the High Priestess's light blue eyes. Despite Ohila's passion about saving this Doctor, a single tear fell from Ryrinna's eye. She did not question Ohila, it was not her place, but the betrayal it required of her was not only against herself, but her people. It would be a steep betrayal which would haunt her for the rest of her life.

"I will do as you command," Ryrinna said softly, fear and sorrow coursing through her heart.


	5. Chapter 5

The door of the Tardis snapped shut behind Eight as he stumbled in, his legs still weak, though he was quickly regaining his strength. Seven stood just inside, his mouth slightly agape as he took in the homie interior of the Eighth Doctor's Tardis.

"You changed the desktop theme," Seven whispered as Eight paused next to his other self. Ten had already made his way to the center console, sending the Tardis into flight.

Eight gave a smile, "You changed it first."

"Yes, but it's a bit more lavish than mine. If Ace were here to see this...," Seven said, pulling off his hat, his thin, curly hair standing up in the back. This made Eight's smile only grow wider as Seven stepped down the stairs, approaching the Tardis console.

"I would have thought you would know what the Tardis interior was like, you know, with you always in my head and such," Eight said, following seven to join Ten, who was darting around the center console.

"Oh no, we're connected to your cognitive thought process, not your visual cortex," Seven said as he stopped next to one of the metal pillars arching over the center console, standing out of the way of Ten, who was launching the Tardis out of the Doctor's subconscious.

"So, where we off to?" Eight asked, stepping up onto the new dais which the console was centered upon.

"I don't know, how about you tell me? Past, or future?" Ten asked, his northern accent standing out when compared to Eight and Seven's. He came to a halt on the other side of the console, looking to Eight as the Tardis was in flight through the time stream.

"Yes, it has to be you who decides," Seven mused, stepping up to the console and resting his elbows on the paneling, propping his chin on top of his folded hands, bright blue eyes looking up to Eight expectantly. "We're either headed into my timeline, or his."

"I think One wanted us to visit both of our timelines, or else why would he separate us into such small groups?" Ten asked, pushing off from the console and rounding to the other side of the center column.

"Isn't this rather dangerous?" Eight asked, crossing his arms at looking Ten over in scrutiny, "A Time Lord crossing into his own future?"

"Of course it is, but if we do manage to revive you, you'll only have a few minutes with the memories before you regenerate, and completely forget about what you've seen or learned about yourself here," Seven said reassuringly, straightening up himself.

Eight looked between his past and future self, hesitating before he reached for the console. "Might as well do the future first, I hate looking back," with a tug of a lever, the Tardis suddenly changed directions, the ship shaking slightly, encouraging Ten and Seven to grab onto the console as well.

"Exactly where are we going?" Seven asked as the three of them worked on the controls.

"We'll have to find out, now won't we," Ten's northern accent sounding strained as the Tardis resisted, giving a groan of complaint.

"She knows where we're going, and she's not happy with it," Eight said, holding a button down with one hand as he reached for a dial to his right. The hair on the back of Eight's neck pricked up, standing on end. "Uh-oh," Eight breathed just before it happened again. His body charged with electricity, senses becoming useless, and pain. Oh, the pain.

Much to the Doctor's surprise, the pain from the energy surge lessened significantly, his hands gripping at the console, arms shaking and kneels buckling. Looking up, eyes wide, the three Doctors watched as the Tardis began to absorb the majority of the electric shock, wheezing in protest as the console and center column surged with lightning.

Ten and Seven stepped away quickly, Eight keeping his grip on the console, knowing the physical contact could not be broken without a severe overload in the Tardis, and the return of the full level of pain for him.

"My Gallifrey," Seven whispered, reaching up to his hat and keeping a hold on the white brim as he watched with wide eyes. Ten was no better, his own lips parted in astonishment as he watched the Tardis absorb the energy surge. After a moment, he seemed to gather his wits about him, and he pulled out his sonic screwdriver, scanning the energy surge passing through Eight and the Tardis.

After several moments, Ten shouted suddenly, "I'VE GOT IT!" just as the Tardis suddenly stopped the energy transference, and with a flash of sparks and lightning, Eight was hurled away from the console, crashing directly into one of the metal pillars surrounding the center console. As Eight collapsed to the floor, the Tardis shut down, the lights dimming to just the column, and the sound of the engine shutting down filling the room.

Eyes popping open wide, Seven rushed over to Eight, crouching beside him as he gripped his shoulder. "Am I still with me?" Seven asked, his voice squeaking slightly in worry. Eight managed to let out a groan as Ten crossed over to the console, pressing different buttons and levers, trying to get the Tardis to respond, even briefly.

"She's completely shorted out," Ten's northern accent carried to the other two. Eight rolled onto his back, lifting a hand to his head as it pounded in protest. His vision was swimming, and with the bright blue light of the Tardis's heart, it made him feel nauseous.

Seven stood up, knowing there was nothing he could do to help his predecessor, he crossed over to stand besides Ten. "Perhaps you should let me have a try," Seven said as Ten stepped back and violently kicked the console. Several lights from the console flickered in and out of life as the sound of a click, followed by the sound of Beethoven's Symphony No. 40 in G Minor coming to life, playing through the Tardis quietly, nearly a whisper.

A smile spread across Seven's face as he glanced down at Eight, "You kept my music," he said in pure delight.

Eight lifted his head as he gave a weak smile in reply, "Wouldn't ever get rid of it. And you there, be careful with my ship," he added before letting his head rest against the cold, hard floor again.

"It's my ship too," Ten said, kneeling down and pulling off a panel to take a look at the wiring.

"It was my ship first," Seven likely couldn't stop himself from saying, as he was the youngest regeneration present.

"Oi!" Ten's voice was muffled by the console, "Don't argue with the driver."

"And exactly who designated you as the driver?" Seven demanded, just as the Tardis sudden hummed back to life, the lights coming back up, as Ten poked his head out from underneath the console.

"How long would that have taken you?" Ten asked, as if to make a point, daring to give a bold smile. Seven gave an indignant sniff as Ten replaced the panel, and got back to his feet. "Alright, let's look over what the sonic screwdriver picked up," he said, fumbling with the tool as he crossed over to the screwdriver's port in the console. Sticking the head of the screwdriver into the console, Ten turned it on, the soft buzzing joining Beethoven as the two filled the otherwise silent room.

Eight pushed himself up to a sitting position, shifting over to the nearby pillar to lean against as he continued to recover. His double heartbeat still hadn't calmed down any, and he knew he didn't have the strength to stand at the moment.

Examining the data coming from the Tardis, Ten seemed hyperfocused on the task at hand, Seven a tad less caring, as Ten seemed to have it covered. "I wonder where we are?" Seven asked absently, decisively crossing over to the door, opening it and poking his head outside. "Ah, we're in London. Didn't know what else I should have been expecting."

"What do you mean you'll need time to process?!" Ten demanded of the Tardis, his accent betraying his irritation with ease.

"Give her time. For now, we have somewhere to explore, haven't we," Eight said disarmingly as he grabbed hold of the pillar and pulled himself up to his feet a bit unsteadily. Ten let out a quiet sight, extracting his screwdriver from the console and crossing over to Eight, grabbing his arm and pulling it across his shoulders. With Ten's help, the Doctors joined Seven outside.

Seven stood in the middle of an alley way, having pulled off his white hat, he sat on some crates, petting a tuxedo cat and talking to it quietly.

"Exactly when are we?" Eight asked, prompting Seven to hop back to his feet and plop his hat back on his head.

"This isn't my timeline, so it must be yours," Seven said, giving a nod to Ten. "I rather like this cat though, he told me his name is Vestagranden.

Through the night sky, a siren suddenly spurted into life, "We're in London," Ten suddenly said, his face paling considerably.

"Yes, I knew that already," Seven said a bit impatiently. "But when are we?"

"Middle of the second World War, 1941, and there's about to be an air raid,"

"Hum, well that can be problematic," Seven said softly turning to Ten, who pulled away from Eight, leaving him to lean on the police box for support.

"Now come on, I need your help with Eight" Ten said, grabbing Seven by the arm, trying to drag him back into the Tardis.

"You know, what exactly are the chances that this area will be hit?" The following explosion from just down the alley way made Seven cut off, "Oh," he offered weakly as he let Ten drag him over to the Tardis, both of them crossing over to Eight, who glanced at the open door of the Tardis, and quickly pulled the door shut with a snap before Seven and Ten took each of his arms, and they were off.

"Wonderful place for the Tardis to take us this time, isn't it," Eight offered as another bomb landed about a block away.

"Well, it was your fault, now wasn't it," Ten shot back. "You were the one who shorted out the Tardis and all."

"Thank you for the reminder," Eight snapped back as they reached the main street, the roads completely abandoned, dark and devoid of life.

"Looks like everyone is hiding from the bombs," Seven said as they quickly crossed the street.

"Smart of them," Eight shouted as another bomb landed close by, the impact causing them to stumble slightly.

"Come on, I know where we can go," Ten said, pulling them diagonal of their original path.


	6. Chapter 6

"Albion Hospital?" Seven asked, squinting at the sign above the gate, struggling to read the gold painted lettering in the darkness.

"I am not going to a hospital!" Eight proclaimed, digging his heels into the ground, fighting against his other selves.

"Come on Eight, it's not like we're in the 1990's and they'll try to do heart surgery on you... again," Seven said, his face growing grave after saying this.

"And even if they try, we'll be here to stop them," Ten said with a casual shrug, "Now come along. I can remember this place, it's important, but I'm not sure why."

"Hum, that's a peculiar fact. If all of our memories are caught up with Eight, then why can you remember things that haven't happened yet?" Seven said in bemusement as Eight stopped struggling, mainly because he still didn't have enough energy to fight them properly.

"I don't remember details, more of- it's like a storyboard of events, basic sketches of what happens," Ten attempted to explain as they reached the main door to the hospital. Seven ducked out from under Eight's arm and pulled the door open, holding it for Eight and Ten to slip inside.

The hospital was deathly quiet, the electric lights were turned off and there wasn't a soul in sight. "Where is everyone?" Eight asked as Seven slipped under his arm again. Shouldn't there have been a nurse near the door to attend to them.

"Maybe they're all hiding from the bombs," Seven offered, "Either way, let's find somewhere for you to sit down."

"I'm going to go have a look around," Ten said, pulling away from the other two and quickly disappearing down another hall.

"I really don't think we should... oh never mind," Seven tried to shout after Ten, but quickly gave up.

"You should go after him, I'll be fine," Eight said reaching for the wall for support, pulling away from his 'younger' self. Seven turned to give Eight a proper look over.

"Perhaps there's something these human doctors can do for you. We are here to try to find something to trigger your regeneration after all," Seven said, rolling his r's in his slightly pompous way.

Eight gave a nod, "Good idea," Seven hesitated briefly before rushing after Ten. "Now that's better," Eight breathed once he was gone. No matter what regeneration he happened to be, it was always bothersome to be around other versions of himself.

Eight sunk down to the floor, propping his back against the wall, his chest in pain since the last electric surge in the Tardis. Unconsciously, he raised a hand to the center of his chest, closing his eyes as he leaned his head against the wall behind him. The distant sounds of bombs faded out as the Doctor focused on his heartbeats, at first unsure of himself, he became slightly frightened after several moments.

Eyes snapping open again, he shifted his hand to rest of over his left heart. Ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum. Perfect. Shifting over to his right heart he waited. Ba... bum... ba... bum. It was still beating, yes, but at half the pace as his left heart. The repetitive one, two, three, four of a Time Lord's heart beat had slowed to a one, two, three, one, four, three. _I hate 6/8_, the Doctor thought in shock as he compared his heartbeats to a time signature in music.

Suddenly the door of the hospital opened down the hall from the Doctor. Distracted, the Doctor turned to see a young woman who looked to be about 16, enter the hall. Her brown hair in two braids, and her dress evidently from the 1940's. She carefully closed the door behind her, and began making her way down the hall.

She jumped when she noticed the Doctor on the floor, looking at him guardedly. "What are you doing here? This hospital's been quarantined," she whispered, looking uneasy.

"If it's been quarantined, then what are you doing here?" Eight asked, raising his eyebrows in question.

The young woman hesitated, glancing down at his hands. "You haven't touched any of them, have you?" she asked. She was scared, and the Doctor could tell.

"Any of what? What's your name?"

"Nancy," she replied quickly, "and if you don't know what I'm talking about, then you should leave this hospital right now."

Almost casually the Doctor gave a single 'tsk', nodding his head to one side as he said, "can't. Two of my- brothers are here, trying to find a physician for me. I can't even stand on my own."

"Then give up your brothers as a lost cause, they won't leave this hospital the same if they don't talk to him first," Nancy said, moving on to the hall the other two Doctors had gone down.

"Who's he?" Eight said, causing Nancy to stop again.

She turned to look back at him over her shoulder, her lips part slightly before she said, "the Doctor." With that she rushed off down the hall, leaving Eight to process what she'd just said. _Ten_, this was his timeline. Something was wrong here, but exactly what it was, Eight wasn't sure. If Ten meet himself here, then they would be in trouble.

With a sudden urgency, the Doctor tried to pull himself to his feet, only to quickly collapse to the ground a moment later. "What I wouldn't give for One's cane or Seven's umbrella," Eight whispered, gripping the wall this time, and standing up a little more slowly as he did so. He was lightheaded, his three heartbeat pattern echoing through his head. At least there was a reason he wasn't feeling any better since the second electrical shock, though what had caused either surge was beyond him.

Perhaps someone was trying to resuscitate his body. Technically, all thirteen incarnations of the Doctor were mental projections inside the Doctor's head. The Time Lords had pulled out these mental projections from the Doctor's mind before, back when they'd sent him to deal with Omega in his Third incarnation. How the Doctor was able to pull it off without the influence of the Time Lords was beyond him, unless...

"Doctor!" Eight turned to find another young woman had made her way into the hospital. She rushed over to him, her brown hair hanging past her shoulders.

"Do I know you?" Eight asked, she was familiar, like a distant, long forgotten memory. She was dressed appropriately for the time period, but something about her felt displaced.

"Oh, not yet, but you've likely seen me from time to time," she said reaching him, she glanced him over, up and down. "Which regeneration is this?"

This took the Doctor aback, and after a slight hesitation he answered, "Eighth."

"Well, Doctor, you don't go anywhere without an adventure- how about I help you find it?" she asked, offering her hand to him.

"Who are you?" Eight asked.

"How about you find out," she answered, smiling brightly, her brown eyes twinkling warmly. Deciding there was nothing better for him to do, the Doctor took her hand, "Now, what's the problem?"

Eight pulled away from the wall, trusting in this strange woman to help support him. "Well, there's three other me's here, one of them is supposed to be here, but the rest of us aren't."

"Then why are you here?" she asked as they rushed down the hallway that the others had all gone down. They reached a stairwell, the wooden stairs well aged, but still intact.

"Because," Eight said as they began making their way up the stairs, "Technically I'm dead, and the regeneration process isn't working, but neurologically, I'm still all with it. I managed to break out of my subconscious, and now I'm trying to find out how to trigger a regeneration."

"But that would kill you," she said as they reached the third floor, the Doctor pausing to look back at her.

"Quite the contrary, it'd keep me alive," the Doctor said energetically.

"That's not what I meant, Doctor. _You'd_ die. This body, it'd be replaced by another," she said, worry in her face.

"You seem very familiar with regeneration. Exactly who are you?"

"Clara Oswald," she said softly, the name wasn't familiar, but the Doctor swore he knew this woman. Unexpectedly, there was a loud crashing sound from down the hall, Seven's unmistakable voice rising above the crashing sound.

"Well Clara, how about we go find out what's happening?" and with that they were running down the hall. The Doctor still felt weak, but somehow being with Clara gave him just the amount of strength needed to go running about, just as he always did. He'd always found Time Lords drab.

They passed several open doors, glancing inside, the Doctor noticed that each ward was filled with patients wearing gas masks, not one of them attended by nurses or physicians. Rushing past another room, the Doctor quickly backtracked, pulling Clara along with him, stopping in the doorway of one of the wards.

"I told you, I am not your mummy!" Seven shouted as a woman in a gas mask was slowly walking towards him. He must have knocked over a tray of scalpels to cause such a clatter, and the evidence was scattered across the floor.

"Are you my mummy?" the woman asked, her voice muffled behind the gas mask.

"Seven, what are you doing?" Eight asked, Seven's wild eyes turning to see the two of them.

"Don't let it touch you," turning, Eight wasn't all that surprised to find Nancy standing there, looking scared out of her wits.

"Are you my mummy?"

"Where's Ten?" Eight asked, turning back to Seven, who was still keeping a good distance between himself and the woman.

"How should I know!? I've been busy dealing with examining all these patients. They all have exactly the same injuries, by the way," Seven's voice rising in pitch as another patient sat up in bed, just behind him.

"Come on Doctor," Clara said, waving her hand urgently. Seven's wispy hair was askew, making his wide eyed panic look almost comical as he managed to dart past the woman asking for her mummy, rushing for them, holding his hat to his head so it wouldn't go flying off.

Eight reached inside his coat, pulling out his sonic screwdriver as he and Clara stepped back so Seven could run out. Eight stood back in the door frame, raising his screwdriver offensively towards the woman in the gas mask.

"Now you stop right there," he said, the authoritative tone in his voice a little underused in this regeneration luckily still did the charm. The woman stopped several feet away from the door, the other patients in the ward had all sat up in bed, several of them had gotten up as well, following the first to the door, none going further than the first woman. "Now tell me, what's wrong, I'm a doctor, I can help."

"Are you my mummy?" the woman asked.

"There's no point, she can't hear you," Nancy interjected behind Eight.

"Mummy?"

"Why are you all wearing those gas masks?" Eight asked.

"They're not," Nancy's voice came to the half listening Doctor, ignored.

"The gas masks are fused to the skull," Seven whispered.

"Where are you mummy?"

"Not here," Eight whispered, lowering the screwdriver. The woman tilted her head to the side, and after a long moment, she turned and along with the rest of the patients, returned to her bed. Reaching for the door, Eight slowly closed it, letting the handle click before he stepped back. "What are the injuries? Seven, you said they all had the exact same injuries."

"Oh, um, massive head trauma on the left side, partial collapse of the right chest cavity, a cut on the back of the hand and the gas mask is fused to the face, becoming part of the bone structure," Seven said quickly, obviously still on edge.

"Doctor," Eight said calmly, turning towards Seven and placing both of his hands on the other man's shoulders. "Pull yourself together, kay?" Seven hesitated before giving a slight nod. Eight gave a smile, patting one of his shoulders firmly before pulling away, "now Nancy, how are you involved?" he asked as he turned to face the young woman.

"My brother," she admitted after several moments of silence. "He was the first. About three weeks ago a bomb fell from the sky, but it wasn't like a normal bomb, no explosion, no nothing. My brother was caught in the impact- they brought him here. Before the next morning had come, every person who had touched my brother, and everyone they'd touched, had turned into one of those things," she said, nodding towards the now closed door.

"An entire hospital in one night. That must be some powerful alien technology," Seven muttered quietly.

"We need to find Ten, he likely doesn't know about the danger," Eight said quickly, worry sinking in slowly.

Seven's eyes widened again, "And we need to find him before he finds himself!"

"Exactly."


End file.
